


Thoughts Inbetween

by chickabee



Series: How To Train Your Prince [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships, more like a relationship-in-progress, they’re together in my own canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickabee/pseuds/chickabee
Summary: Zuko can breathe again, but actual bending is another story. Anzu can’t comprehend fearing your inner fire the way Zuko does, but luckily she has a friend(?) to help her.
Relationships: Zuko (Avatar) & Original Character(s), Zuko (Avatar) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: How To Train Your Prince [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587808
Comments: 6
Kudos: 120





	Thoughts Inbetween

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn’t decide if I wanted to give context for Yeong Jin before or after Zuko’s first interaction with him and then I decided I don’t particularly care, I’m just gonna write whatever I have the inspiration for.
> 
> Warning for Yeong Jin in general? He’s just a thirsty non-bender with mild bdsm constantly on his mind. I tried to tone him down.
> 
> Also, Zuko, you’ve been adopted, just accept it.

Everything is fine until the fire gets too close to his face.

He’s overexcited, eager to get back to bending after keeping his fire inside himself for so long. Not bending is like not breathing and he’s been slowly suffocating these past few months as he recovers both physically - the salt air stings, but at least he’s gained back _feeling_ in the left side of his face, which is better than the aching, burning numbness that was there before - and mentally - as much as the burn had kept him bedridden, so had the flinch when he’d awoken on a dark ship and been confronted with a _candle_ and the shame and horror of fearing his own element had left him feeling nauseous.

Anzu’s meditations have been working so well, _extremely well_. His breath is as steady as it was before his banishment. His form is smooth and solid. Uncle’s invitations to join him for tea have been less annoying and he’s sleeping just a little more each night.

He’s ecstatic when Uncle gives him the all-clear to fire bend with the guards during training.

The first day is great.

The second day...not so much.

He knows his basics - the daily meditation katas have seen to that, and more to the point they’re _boring_ when he’s not using them as busywork while he clears his mind. Because his mind can’t be clear while fire bending. Not unless he wants to get burned.

But he insists on moving on to the next set just to prove he can. And in his excitement, his flame comes out a little stronger, burns a little brighter, and he’s not paying attention to the _wind_ -

- _it was never so strong back home, only ever a pleasant breeze unless it was storming, but on a ship deck, on the open ocean, it’s_ everywhere _and it’s strong and constant and wind has always made fire want to leap and jump and stretch beyond its limits_ -

-it pushes his own flames back toward his face and it comes too close-

- _”—please, I am your loyal son!”_ -

-to the left side of his face.

Zuko flinches, pulls back from his fire, a small cry of distress escaping from his lips.

The soldier he’s training with pauses and stumbles. They both glance over to where Uncle and Guardsman Anzu are watching.

Uncle is stroking his beard. He has that I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed-and-I’m-not-going-to-say-I-told-you-so-because-I’m-too-nice-for-that look on his face. It’s a very distinct look. Very different from Mother’s I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed look had been. Even more different from Father’s I’m-mad- _because_ -you’re-a-disappointment look. It’s gentle and sad, but it still takes everything in Zuko’s little body to not flinch. Not with his last memory of Father so clearly refreshed in his mind.

Guardsman Anzu, on the other hand, is stomping toward him across the deck. Her face is scrunched up in a way that Zuko has come to learn means I-want-to-yell-but-is-it-worth-the-energy. She’d been even more adamant than Uncle that he shouldn’t be working on the more complex katas so soon after his injury. Her hair whips around her face because she refuses to wear it in a proper top knot or phoenix tail. Her amber eyes flash with irritation. Zuko doesn’t have to hide a flinch as she comes near because he takes an involuntary step back.

She stops at that and stomps her foot, snaps her fingers and points to the spot in front of her, “Get over here and let me see.”

He hunches his shoulders and pouts, but moves to where she points. She crosses her arms. Gives him another Look. This one means she will follow him with a cold compress and a swath of bandages until he admits he’s in pain, prepubescent embarrassment be damned. He’s also learned it is far less embarrassing to let her fret immediately than it is for her to hunt him down later. Like after she’s had time to make him soup.

If he thought Uncle and his tea was obnoxious, Agni forbid Anzu gets it into her head someone needs soup.

So Zuko huffs and turns his face so she can see his left side better, “It doesn’t hurt. It just-“ how can he admit how much it had scared him? “-startled me. A little. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. _As usual_.”

Part of him resents how delicately she pokes and prods at his face. It makes him feel fragile and breakable and maybe a little broken already.

A slightly larger part is grateful. Uncle is affectionate, but his affection is like an eager ferretdogbear - excitable and overwhelming, with hugs that sort of hurt, but in a good way. Guardsman Anzu gently strokes his face in a way kind of like how Mother used to. Like he’s precious, and loved, because he’s someone’s baby boy again and as much as he’s a teenager who pushes that affection away, he’s also a boy who lost that feeling very young and very suddenly and it’s a balm on his nerves, his anger, to have even a sliver of it back again.

A smaller, quieter part of him doesn’t realize some of that gratefulness is because she’s never reached out for him first. Has always waited for some subtle shift in his posture that signals you-can-touch-me-now-because-I-know-you-won’t-hurt-me.

She checks him over and sighs when she pulls away, “I think you’re done for the day.”

“WHAT?!”

He may have been giving her more permission than the rest of the crew to be slightly more casual, but she doesn’t just get to _order him_ -

“I said, you’re done. Unless you want to go back to the beginners’ kata.”

Her stance is firm. Her root is grounded. Her arms are crossed again, her fingers drumming a sharp staccato against her armor. Stubborn as an earth bender and if he starts yelling at her like the _peasant she is_ he’ll feel _bad about it_. When the hell did that happen?

He can back talk and sass Uncle as much as he likes ~~until he starts to feel like the world’s worst nephew~~ because Uncle loves him and cares for him and just wants him to be happy-

- _as happy as a boy can be when he can never return home because deep down even_ he _knows this quest is hopeless_ -

-Anzu...is a soldier first, and a glorified babysitter second. She takes both duties equally seriously. Meaning if he insists he’s not injured, not tired, not ready to take a break, she’ll run him into the ground just to prove him wrong and then bundle him up and _baby_ him until he collapses into a dreamless sleep at the end of the day.

Which she proceeds to do.

Mercilessly.

* * *

Brat.

Punk.

Sassy little shit.

Doesn’t know how to quit while he’s ahead, how to rest before he runs himself ragged.

Anzu didn’t think when she proposed her _extremely spur of the moment_ idea that Prince Zuko would take it and just _run wild_. She finds herself facing the problem of getting him to _stop_. She’s always been a very sink-or-swim type of person, but it gets more and more difficult to just let the prince be with each passing day.

Part of it is the grave, entreating look on General Iroh’s face when he thinks it’s time to stop-

- _and how the hell did she become the person who knows how to handle their hyperactive prince_ -

-and part of it is because watching the prince wear himself out is _exhausting_.

What no one on the ship is willing to admit is that watching their prince flinch away from his own fire is painful. All the fire benders on the crew have a healthy dose of fear and respect for their fire - they’re fire benders not fools - but the prince seems to have forgotten that respect and has charged headlong into outright terror. They’ve all seen him reach up like he’s trying to block or grab or _something_ and as the months go on and gossip circulates the crew has been putting together a horrible image of what has happened to their precious little prince.

Because he is.

Precious, that is.

When he’s not being a little _snot_ and yelling at all the _peasants_ on board.

But days pass and he keeps pulling away from his fire and Anzu’s feeling a hopeless sort of desperation because he gets this _look_ and it tugs at her heartstrings and he can _never know_ because Agni knows what he’d get away with if he did.

But again. Desperate.

* * *

“You’re not going to be able to help him with this, you know.”

Yeong Jin slides onto the bench beside Anzu, nudging her arm so she’ll remember to keep shoveling her food down her throat. How someone can fidget so much while thinking, yet forget to keep moving food from point A (her plate) to point B (her mouth) is a mystery for the likes of him.

Still, it’s endearing. And he’d like to keep her alive, she’s one of the few interesting people to talk to.

Who talk back.

Which she promptly does, with her mouth still half full, “The fuck you on about?”

The _mouth_ on this woman.

(It’s a lovely shape, but absolutely filthy.)

He twirls his chopsticks in front of her eyes, being extremely rude on purpose, but she was raised in the Colonies and has _no idea_ the extent of his insult. Knows she’s being insulted, though. She grabs his wrist hard enough to bruise and jerks his hand off to the side. He smiles like she’s placed the most chaste of kisses to his knuckles and she let’s go with a snort of disgust.

He’d love to keep playing his usual game, but he’s on a mission today.

“The prince. You can’t help him.” He crosses one leg over the other and tucks his hands up under his chin, to keep them still. He’s not as full of movement as Anzu and said prince, but he knows how to captivate an audience with the flick of a wrist. _You use elegance to mesmerize and manipulate, you scheming little wretch_ , Mother had once told him. As if he hadn’t learned from the best (the best being you, Mother, you paranoid pygmy puma).

Anzu stops eating to face him, which isn’t what he wanted, but he can always sneak her a snack later. Maybe. If she lets him in. She never does, but today could be the day.

“Are you talking about His Highness’ fire bending?” she asks.

“Of course~,” he trills, “you’ve never been afraid of fire, especially your own.”

She groans and leans until her head rests on the table. “I knew it,” she moans. “What _can_ I do, then?” Because as much as Yeong Jin irks her, she knows to listen to him. Because she’s a smart, smart girl.

(One of these days he’ll reward her _properly_ , but she’s not ready for that yet.)

“Build up his confidence in another martial art,” he ticks off on a finger, “let the general handle his fire bending. Your little meditation plan was brilliant, but it will only get him so far. He needs to learn control. Or relearn it, as it were.”

She huffs and pouts (she can deny it all she wants, she loves their bratty prince) and looks away. He eats a little food and nudges her again to remind her to do the same. She huffs again, but does so, has learned if she doesn’t he’ll just _offer_ to feed her himself and that’s an embarrassment she couldn’t stand to repeat. In front of the crew. Again.

It took a couple _offers_ , but she’s learning.

“I’m a fire bender, a soldier in the Fire Lord’s army,” she muses aloud, “we’re not really trained in any other martial art. It’s improper or dishonorable or something like that.”

Yeong Jin hums in empathy, but can’t relate enough for sympathy. Not being a fire bender is why he’s here, serving on a banished prince’s ship, instead of back home on the mainland. Even first born are looked over in favor of a younger sibling that can bend.

And then Anzu gets the most devious look on her face.

“Yeong Jin,” she says sweetly.

“No.”

“Please?” She drawls, and slides closer. Cuddles right up against him.

“Absolutely not.”

She digs her nails into his thigh and he suppresses a shudder.

“Yeong Jin,” she says again. Her wish. His command.

“...I hate you.”

“You love me.”

He doesn’t deny it, let’s it hang between them, because that’s punishment enough for what she’s making him do.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeong Jin is also a repurposed Bleach oc! His name was Yukimura and he was a Kuchiki because of course he was.
> 
> Can y’all tell I’m just posting these with no editing -,-


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